


Alstroemeria

by stealthestars



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Gratuitous descriptions of how pretty Tendou Satori is, I clown on Ushijima a bit and I'm only slightly sorry for it, Language of Flowers, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Model Tendou Satori, Nude Modeling, Or Is It?, Photoshoots, Sexual Tension, Tendou owns a flower shop, Unrequited Love, Ushijima is a Photographer, Ushijima is trying to be a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29267376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealthestars/pseuds/stealthestars
Summary: Ushijima Wakatoshi is in love with Tendou Satori and Tendou Satori is in love with his soulmate, who is not Ushijima.The world is cruel sometimes.For day 3 of Valentendou!Prompts: Flower Shop, Soulmates
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 127
Collections: Valentendou Week





	Alstroemeria

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a bit of a labor of love and I struggled with writers block for a long while on how to get to the ending I'd already planned out from the start, so I hope you enjoy reading it! 
> 
> It's definitely the angstiest piece I've written for Valentendou. Happy day 3~
> 
> You can find beautiful artwork from this story [here](https://twitter.com/queenkeiji/status/1360033002063994881?s=20) and [here](https://twitter.com/queenkeiji/status/1360017308597456897?s=20), drawn by the amazing and wonderful [Ysa!](https://twitter.com/queenkeiji) Don't click until AFTER you've read though or else you'll be spoiled.

Ushijima has a problem: his model just quit and he only has two months left until his next show. Not only that but he’s rescinded all permissions to use his image entirely, so now Ushijima can’t even use the photos he _has_ taken. He’ll need to start from scratch and that is… well, it’s a problem. 

It could take weeks just to find a new model, nevermind redoing the photography sessions and all the editing and printing. 

It’s not Watari’s fault, really. Ushijima has been stringing him along from photo session to photo session for a while now, each one more wildly confusing than the last. He’s struggling to find his inspiration for this upcoming exhibition and he can’t even come to a decision on a basic concept. He had hoped that in trying different things he might find _the_ thing that speaks to him, but each time he’d come away unsatisfied and more frustrated than before. 

His mistake had been telling Watari he didn’t find him inspiring. Of course the model would find that offensive and walk right out the door. Ushijima doesn’t know why he can’t find his mojo with him this time but he just… can’t. 

Well. He wants to pretend he doesn’t know why, anyways. His eyes slide over to his redheaded friend seated across from him at the restaurant, who has been patiently listening to Ushijima’s struggles through the entire meal.

“I know you’re used to working with Watari-san, but can’t your agency find someone else?” Tendou asks curiously and Ushijima shakes his head.

“Unfortunately, no. It takes a while to draft out a contract, agree on a pay rate… and it’s hard to work with a model I’m not compatible with, so I usually take time to get to know them and make sure they’re comfortable with me, considering my… style.” 

Ushijima’s “style” is nude photography. There’s just something so fascinating to him about the human body in its most vulnerable state and his audience seems to agree because he’d suddenly been thrust into the spotlight after the enormous success of his debut exhibition. His art book had sold out within days of hitting the shelves and Ushijima finds himself wanting to do something bigger for the second show. 

Bolder than the first. Better.

But now he might have to cancel. At least he hadn’t finished editing the photos he’d planned to use for the advertisements, so he doesn’t have to deal with that whole mess. 

Tendou hums as he considers what Ushijima is saying, leaning back in his chair with his long, bandaged fingers tapping absently on the table. Ushijima has been obsessed with those hands ever since they became friends. He has sketchbooks full of drawings of them from every conceivable angle and in every possible position, hidden in a box at the back of his closet so Tendou never finds them. From an artistic perspective they are utterly fascinating, long and slender and always, always wrapped in those neat white bandages for as long as he can remember.

“How about me?” Tendou asks suddenly, grinning brightly like it’s the perfect solution to all of Ushijima's problems. Ushijima blinks and vaguely wonders if this is what it’s like to stare into the sun.

“You?” 

It’s not a bad idea per say but it is definitely a _bad_ idea. 

“Yeah!” Tendou crows, getting into it now that he’s made the decision. He beams at him and Ushijima tries not to stare as Tendou starts to tick things off on his fingers.

“I don’t need a whole contract. I’m fine waiving any claim to your photos and any proceeds. I don’t care about getting paid. I’m not a professional model so there’s no agency or anything to haggle with. And we know each other and I know your style so I won’t be weirded out by what you ask me to do. It’ll just be me helping out my best friend, yeah? I think it’ll be great!”

And it isn't that Ushijima is opposed. Quite the opposite in fact; the idea of Tendou’s body draped over the many props in his studio has haunted Ushijima’s dreams for years since they graduated high school and started living together.

And therein lies the crux of the problem. Ushijima Wakatoshi is in love with Tendou Satori and Tendou Satori is in love with his soulmate, who is not Ushijima. 

The world is cruel sometimes.

He thinks about the small daisy on Tendou’s delicate looking ankle. How it’s incompatible with the seemingly random splotches of pink and white watercolor staining the skin over Ushijima’s heart. 

“That would be… okay, I think,” he hears himself say, already reeling with ideas. “It’ll be a lot of late nights though. Will you be able to handle that?”

Tendou owns his own flower shop and he goes in every morning at 6 to make sure the plants are all watered and cared for before he starts collecting the flowers he needs for that day’s pre orders. He grows as much as he can himself in the greenhouse out back and Ushijima loves the way he comes home every night smelling of daisies and earth. 

The redhead bobs his head in a reassuring nod, reaching out to shove teasingly at Ushijima’s shoulder.

“Yeah it’ll be fun! I’m looking forward to it, really. Just tell me when and I’ll be there with bells on,” Tendou laughs, then waggles an eyebrow suggestively at Ushijima.

“Or off, I guess, considering your theme.”

Ushijima is definitely going to regret this.

🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐

Ushijima definitely regrets this.

Tendou is almost entirely naked in front of him, a rich purple silk robe draped around his slender shoulders and oh so beautiful against his alabaster skin. The ever present bandages are still wrapped around his fingers and when Ushijima asked him if he wanted to remove them Tendou had refused, insisting there were some nasty scratches beneath them from work that Ushijima wouldn’t want in his photos. Considering the enormous favor Tendou is doing for him, Ushijima decides not to press him on it. He isn’t sure about any cuts considering Tendou has worn those bandages every day for at least as long as Ushijima has known him, but it isn’t like they’re unsightly. If anything, Ushijima finds the familiarity of them comforting and is reminded of their high school days together on the volleyball court. He’s already brainstorming ideas on how to incorporate the bandages into some of his photo concepts.

Bandages or no, Tendou is absolutely beautiful. His red hair has gotten a little long, curling like licks of flame around his ears. Ushijima wants to reach out and touch him and then realizes with a jolt that he _can._.

“Just lie back on the couch,” he instructs, waiting for Tendou to sit before he carefully starts to position him. Tendou’s skin is warm beneath his fingertips and he swallows thickly, trying not to think too hard as he guides Tendou to lay down on his back, upper body twisted towards where Ushijima’s camera equipment is set up. The silk belt slips and the bottom half of the robe spills to the side and off the couch, leaving Tendou’s modesty only just barely preserved by the top half. His long, pale legs are twined together and stretched out along the cushions, the lower knee just slightly hitched up beneath the top. 

It’s _breath taking._

“Don’t move.”

Tendou freezes before he can reach for the belt and Ushijima takes his wrists, guiding one arm to dangle off the couch while the other is resting along his torso, bent at the elbow to drape over his abdomen.

And then Ushijima steps back, eyes intense as he studies his subject. Perhaps Watari had done him a favor by quitting because Ushijima knows now that Tendou is the perfect model for him. The _only_ model for him. 

He’s a natural at it, too, not flinching or tensing by even a fraction when Ushijima’s camera clicks with each photo. Soft red hair hangs in Tendou’s eyes and Ushijima likes the way it makes him look almost... shy, like someone experiencing their own sexuality for the first time. 

Each new angle reveals something else for Ushijima to admire and it seems that maybe the most difficult part of this process is going to be choosing which pictures are the best. 

For the next pose he directs Tendou to lean up a bit against the velvety white pillows stacked behind him, struggling to remain clinical when the robe slips and exposes Tendou’s entire body to him. 

Ushijima appreciates the beauty of the human body in a way that isn’t inherently sexual.

However, he doesn’t usually have a romantic interest in the human bodies he is photographing, so perhaps it’s okay to cut himself some slack just this once. 

He leaves the robe open but guides Tendou’s arms to rest on top of his thighs, obscuring his groin from the angles Ushijima intends to photograph from. 

To his benefit, Tendou seems completely comfortable with his own nudity, even as Ushijima shapes and molds him to suit his vision for each and every photoset. He remains soft and unaffected against his hip bone and if Ushijima hadn’t known otherwise he’d have assumed Tendou to be a professional model.

The only time he makes a noise through the entire photoshoot is when Ushijima asks him to lie on his stomach for the last photo. 

He has Tendou fold his arms together beneath his head, the robe bunched at his elbows and riding low on his back. Ushijima tugs the hem of the robe down to just above the swell of Tendou’s ass and then makes the mistake of trailing his fingertips along the edge of silk, brushing against warm, pale skin he wishes so badly to taste. The sharp gasp that bursts from Tendou surprises them both and Ushijima snatches his hand back as if he’s been burned.

An apology is on the tip of his tongue when he catches sight of Tendou’s face and he loses it entirely in the burst of artistic inspiration that thrums through his veins. Tendou is _blushing_ and the arm on the outside has shifted downwards, bandaged fingers curled in front of his mouth and obscuring the lower half of his face from view. Tendou’s eyes are hooded and glassy, peering up at Ushijima like a shy lover who has just been caught doing something they shouldn’t. 

Ushijima’s never moved faster in his life, snatching his camera up and snapping as many photos as he can before the pink flush fades away. 

He’s never seen Tendou so vulnerable before. It’s beautiful and it has Ushijima reconsidering his entire concept because this is-

It’s _perfect._

Ushijima had been struggling with how he could possibly top his debut show and this is it. Tendou Satori is the answer.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable when I touched you. I just wanted to get the positioning of the robe right,” Ushijima murmurs finally, lowering his camera to study his friend. The delicate daisy of Tendou’s soul mark flexes when he sits up, disappearing entirely beneath his body as he folds long legs beneath himself. The blush has faded now and Tendou seems steady again, looking easily at Ushijima while he quickly ties the robe shut. 

“It’s all good, Wakatoshi-kun. You just surprised me. I’m not used to being touched like that,” Tendou laughs, waving a hand at him. Ushijima hums faintly, already itching to get his camera plugged into his laptop so he can see his photographs in better detail.

“I thought you were seeing someone you’d met at the shop?” Ushijima asks in a low rumble, absently rubbing at his chest. He stands up and retrieves Tendou’s clothes from the nearby folding chair and offers them to him, not wanting to make him walk barefoot and mostly naked across the cold wooden floor of his studio. 

Tendou shrugs a single shoulder and takes his clothes, fiddling with the cotton of his t-shirt.

“Not really. We went on a single coffee date but ended up agreeing that we both wanted to wait for our soulmates,” he sighs, mouth twisting into a wry grin when Ushijima huffs faintly. “I know you don’t really like all that soulmate stuff, Wakatoshi-kun, but it’s important to me.”

He isn’t wrong. Ushijima has been fairly vocal from the start of their friendship about his abhorrence for society’s obsession with soulmates, but it really has very little to do with the concept of soulmates in general and very much to do with the concept of soulmates ruining his chances of ever having anything with Tendou. 

“Are you hungry?” Ushijima asks as a way to change the subject, turning away to give Tendou some privacy to get dressed again. Tendou makes a thoughtful noise and Ushijima takes that as a yes, tucking his camera into its carrying case and grabbing his laptop off the table. 

“I suppose the least you can do is buy me dinner after I took off all my clothes and let you have your way with me,” Tendou teases and Ushijima has to take a deep, steadying breath through his nose, glad that his back is to the redhead so he doesn’t see the punched out look on his face. 

Ushijima will need to take a lot more photos of Tendou over the next few weeks and wonders if he’s going to survive it. Still-

He’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge how excited he is to see what new artistic heights he can achieve with a model like Tendou.

🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐

Ushijima and Tendou have been close since their first year of high school. They were on the volleyball team together and the chemistry they had on the court was incomparable to the competition. Ushijima loved volleyball, still loves volleyball if he’s being honest.

Right up until a car accident after their loss to Karasuno in the finals permanently ended his dreams of going pro. His broken knee and fractured shoulder have since healed, but Ushijima will never be able to jump or spike like he used to. 

Tendou had been there for him through all of it. Had given Ushijima’s broken body and heart a safe place to shelter away from the world and recover. 

They got an apartment together after graduation and Ushijima enrolled in an art program at the local university. He’d always been good at drawing and figured he could make use of that somehow for a future that didn’t involve volleyball. 

It’s where he discovered, and eventually fell in love with, photography. His professors said he had a natural gift for knowing what would stir up emotion in his audience. 

He did his final project on the flowers in Tendou’s then newly acquired shop and got a perfect score.

His red haired friend had gotten a job at a florist only a few blocks from their apartment, owned by a kindly widower who needed someone to help with the planting and weeding and watering. When the old man passed away only a year later, his daughter, a doctor who lived in Osaka and had no interest in moving all the way to Tokyo to take over her father’s shop, and with no other family to pass it on to, offered the shop to Tendou. A way to still honor her father’s memory and the shop he loved, she had said. He had always spoken highly of Tendou in their weekly phone calls and she felt it’s what he would have wanted. 

Tendou had taken to his flowers like Ushijima had taken to photography, and the business thrived under his ownership. 

Ushijima heads over to visit Tendou in that shop the morning after their first shoot, hoping he can bring him some lunch as a thank you for helping him. The photos he had taken had been every bit as perfect as he had expected.

Especially the last one. It’s definitely on the short list to become his centerpiece photo once he’s done collecting pictures. 

When he enters the shop he finds Tendou buzzing around the baskets of flowers behind his workstation, in the process of creating a bouquet for the teenager fidgeting nervously at the register. 

“I know it isn’t quite as striking as a bouquet of roses, but I think your soulmate will enjoy these gillyflowers I’ve picked out,” Tendou says excitedly, turning towards his customer with an armful of delicate looking pink and white blossoms. Ushijima settles in by the wall and watches, always enraptured with the energy and focus Tendou always seems to radiate when he’s talking about his flowers. 

“And a little white lilac, for the innocence of youth,” he adds, carefully intertwining the tiny white buds into rest. 

“Oh, I only have enough to pay for one kind of flower!” the boy protests, only to be waved at by Tendou, who has already started wrapping up the bouquet.

“Nonsense. The extra is on the house for the young lover,” he teases, offering the mass of flowers to him with a beaming grin on his face. The bandages on his fingers are stained with water and dirt and Ushijima wonders why he wears them even at the shop. Wouldn’t it be more convenient not to?

Figuring it’s probably none of his business, Ushijima puts it out of his mind and approaches the work bench once the teenager has run out of the shop with the flowers in hand.

“It’s technically bad business to always give things away for free, Satori,” he points out, curious when Tendou quickly glances down at his own hands first before meeting Ushijima’s gaze. Tendou then grins at him and starts to sweep the extra leaves and stem ends he’d snipped off the bench and into the bin he kept under it.

“He found his soulmate, Wakatoshi-kun! It’s exciting, hardly the time for me to be stingy over a few lilacs,” he chastises, folding his arms across the workbench and leaning across it to study Ushijima. 

“But I know you don’t care about that stuff. To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit today?”

Ushijima fights the urge to frown at Tendou’s comment. It isn’t that he doesn’t care about soulmates at all, he just doesn’t care about his own very specifically. How is a total stranger supposed to ever understand him the way Tendou does? Choosing to ignore Tendou’s comment he instead holds up the convenience store bag with the lunch boxes he had picked up on the way over.

“I brought lunch for you. I wanted to thank you again for offering to be my model. I’ll be working more tonight on editing the photos from our first shoot, but would you be available tomorrow evening for another?” he asks evenly, setting the bag down on the bench in front of him.

Tendou eyeballs the food with interest, licking his lips as he considers Ushijima’s proposal.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Wakatoshi-kun,” the redhead replies, grinning at him from over the lunchboxes. 

“Since you’re here, mind helping me change a few bulbs in the greenhouse? It’s hard to get up there by myself. I just need you to hold the ladder steady so I don’t fall and break every bone in my body.”

That’s how Ushijima ends up in the sweltering humidity of the greenhouse and faced with an unexpected but miserable predicament. Mainly, there’s really nowhere to look except up at Tendou’s ass.

It’s a really nice ass. Ushijima is only human and Tendou is extremely attractive. There are four bulbs that need changing over in all, and Ushijima is amazed he hasn’t melted a hole right through Tendou with how intensely he’s staring up at him. 

There isn’t really anywhere safe. Even if he doesn’t stare at his ass, there’s still the way his muscles flex beneath the thin cotton of his shirt as he stretches upwards to reach the lamp hanging from the ceiling. The pale sliver of Tendou’s stomach and lower back that’s exposed when his shirt lifts with him.

He’s completely distracted and when Tendou starts to descend from the final bulb, Ushijima isn’t able to react quick enough to steady the ladder when one of the feet suddenly shifts on a loose patch of dirt and sinks, sending the whole thing teetering off balance. 

It’s instinctual for him to reach up for Tendou just as the man reels back and loses his grip, but it isn’t exactly smart when his full weight crashes into Ushijima and sends them both falling backwards onto the earthen floor. 

Tendou is sprawled across Ushijima’s chest, his fingers curled into the front of his t-shirt and his face pressed into his throat, breath coming in harsh, panting gasps against his skin. Ushijima isn’t faring much better and he’s fully aware of the throbbing pulse of his heart, thudding against his chest so loud Tendou must be able to hear it. 

“Are you okay?” he asks with a low grunt, a dull ache starting to spread throughout his back as the adrenaline of seeing Tendou falling starts to wear off. His old injuries make themselves known in a sharp, unpleasant way.

“I think so,” Tendou groans, slowly sitting up and rubbing at his shoulder. He then suddenly scowls and swats at Ushijima’s chest, making him wince at the unexpected violence.

“Why the hell did you try to catch me? We’re almost the same size, you could have gotten injured!” he snaps and he looks so absolutely beautiful when he’s angry that it takes Ushijima’s breath away far more than the fall ever could.

Tendou huffs at him and Ushijima realizes he’s just been staring blankly at him for who knows how long so he coughs to try and cover up his embarrassment, looking away at the far wall of the greenhouse instead of at Tendou’s flush red face. 

“I just moved on instinct. I didn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself,” he mutters under his breath, trying to pretend he isn't starting to sweat from how Tendou is still sitting on him, straddled across his stomach and pressing into his skin. It’s been a while since they’ve been this close, maybe not since high school when they’d help each other stretch after games, and it’s doing wonders to crumble the walls of Ushijima’s already straining self control. 

Tendou sighs and, much to Ushijima’s relief and regret, slides off him and gets to his feet, brushing at the dirt that’s covering his clothes. Ushijima carefully picks himself up now that he’s no longer pinned beneath Tendou’s weight and makes a face at the punishing ache in his back and knee. 

He’s definitely going to be feeling it later on and he wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up with a couple bruises for his failed attempt at heroism.

The lightbulb is successfully changed at least so Tendou doesn’t have to climb back up the ladder, but the mood is more than a little sour by the time they actually sit down to eat their lunch. 

Somewhere in the middle of watching Tendou pick up a slice of chicken katsu with perhaps a bit more aggression than the situation warrants, Ushijima finally feels the last tether of his sanity snap and heaves out a sigh.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry if I hurt you when I tried to catch you,” he offers, which only seems to enrage his lunch companion even further. 

Tendou puts his chopsticks down with a crisp snap and folds his arms across his chest, staring hard at Ushijima. 

“ _I’m_ fine. You should worry about yourself more. I really don’t need you to go out of your way to catch me every time I trip over my own feet,” he protests, looking away as he reaches up to brush his bangs out of his face. There’s dirt all over the bandages wrapped around his fingers and Ushijima notes that the pinky on his right hand and his left pointer are uncovered today, though equally smudged with dirt. 

“You should take these off while you’re eating,” he hums, pointedly ignoring what Tendou said in favor of reaching out to capture his wrist, starting to work at one of the filthy wrappings before it’s suddenly yanked away like Ushijima had pinched him. 

Tendou’s expression is hard to parse in that moment. The upset is obvious, and the anger. But there’s something else beneath all of that and if Ushijima didn’t know any better he would say it looked like… sadness?

“It’s rude to just go grabbing people without warning, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou hisses and when he smiles there’s far too many teeth for it to be genuine.

And for some reason, Ushijima feels himself growing angry as well. 

“I apologize,” he says coldly, withdrawing his arm and planting his hand over his chest, where his soul mark burns against his skin like a brand.

“I forgot you’ll only allow your _soulmate_ to touch your hands now.”

He knows he’s crossed a line the second the words leave his lips. 

Tendou’s brows knit just as Ushijima’s snapping his mouth shut, wishing more than anything that he could turn back the clock just a few moments to prevent himself from saying something so thoughtless and stupid. He looks devastated and Ushijima...

Ushijima hates knowing he’s the one that put that expression on his face. 

“Satori, I’m so-” He begins, only to be cut off by the harsh scrape of Tendou shoving back his chair. His best friend’s face has closed off now, betraying no trace of the earlier emotions that had been written all over it. 

Ushijima’s seen this look a million times over, but it had always been directed at opposing players on the volleyball court that he found particularly vexing. Never at Ushijima, and never with such frightening intensity.

“No, no. Don’t apologize. You’re right. Only my soulmate is allowed to touch my hands,” Tendou murmurs, and the ice in his voice could freeze an entire lake within an instant. “And since you’ve so _enthusiastically_ decided that isn’t you, then I suppose you should probably just leave so I can get back to work.” 

He doesn’t outright flee the shop but it is a near thing. He supposes he deserves the way Tendou slams the door shut behind him.

It had been a shitty thing to say. 

When Tendou comes home later that night he breezes silently by Ushijima and locks his bedroom door with a final, resounding click.

🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐

Ushijima sighs heavily, staring down at the light fixture he’s currently in the middle of disassembling.

How could he chase off not one but _two_ project models with his own stupidity and careless speaking? There’s no way Tendou is going to show after their fight at the flower shop and honestly, it’s probably for the best.

He doesn’t know what to say to him at this point. 

I’m sorry I’m in love with you, please date me instead of your soulmate, who is destined to be your other half and the one that completes you in a way that I never will?

Ushijima doesn’t like feeling this way. Even after years of practice, he’s still not all that good at hiding his feelings from Tendou. 

What if he decides he wants to move out? The shop is doing quite well and there really isn’t a reason for Tendou to still be living in a cramped apartment with Ushijima. Hasn’t been for a while, and yet here he is, still choosing to say with him even though he doesn’t have to. That has to count for something, right? 

There’s a sudden loud thud from behind him and Ushijima turns to see Tendou standing there, wearing a loose button up shirt and blue jeans. His hair is still a little damp, as if he’d showered right before coming over to the studio.

The bandages on his fingers are crisp white and secured tightly beneath the clean medical tape. 

“Satori,” Ushijima says for lack of anything better to offer, caught completely off guard to see him back in his studio. 

Tendou stares at him, expression a little sour, then gestures at the pieces of equipment in Ushijima’s hands.

“What are you doing? I thought you said we were doing a shoot tonight,” Tendou reminds him, jamming his hands in his pockets and glancing away from Ushijima.

“I-”

He swallows thickly, struggling to cough up with the words currently sticking in the back of his throat.

“I wasn’t sure if you were still coming.”

Not exactly what he had in mind but it’s a start. Tendou furrows his brow and Ushijima tries not to think about how cute he is with his nose all scrunched up in annoyance.

“Of course I was. I’m not going to tank your entire career over some shitty fight,” Tendou snaps, and Ushijima feels properly chastised at that. 

Ushijima winces, setting aside the lighting fixture he now supposes has to be reassembled.

“I apologize for my actions yesterday. My comments were inappropriate and rude. I promise it won’t happen again,” he murmurs, bowing his head towards the red head. “And I’m grateful that you’re here. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you decided to quit modeling for me.”

Tendou rolls his eyes and the familiarity of the gesture is strangely comforting. 

“You’re still my friend even if you _were_ an ass. I wasn’t about to leave you high and dry just because you hate soulmates, Wakatoshi.” 

Swallowing thickly around Tendou’s false assumption, Ushijima nods shortly and then gestures behind him at the mattress set out on the floor. Why did he decide to be a nude photographer again? Is it too late to change his entire career path? Landscapes are always popular, or so he’s heard. 

“Okay. Then, if you want to undress and get comfortable, I’ll reassemble the light fixture and we can get underway,” he directs slowly. Tendou stares at him, then at the mattress, and then back at Ushijima, as if trying to size him up.

And when Tendou squares off his jaw and a familiar, single minded intensity fills his red-brown eyes, Ushijima knows he’s well and truly screwed.

During the first shoot Tendou had undressed in the adjoining bathroom but this time Tendou spares no thought for modesty or Ushijima's mental health, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it flutter to the floor right there in front of him. His pants join them in a heartbeat and the entire time this is happening, Tendou is staring at Ushijima, focused and unblinking. 

He hadn’t been wearing anything under the jeans. 

Ushijima is helpless but to watch as Tendou sinks gracefully down onto the mattress he had prepared, his pale skin glowing against the plain white silk of the sheets. His body twists, thighs spreading slightly, and if Ushijima didn’t know any better he’d swear Tendou is trying to seduce him.

But then again, he supposes that is the entire point of the shoot. 

His hands are shaking so badly it’s a miracle he gets the light put back together without breaking anything, once again mounting it on its stand before he retrieves his camera from the carrying case.

And if the first shoot had been about the innocence and purity of first love, then this one is absolutely becoming about the fiery passion of mature love. Tendou twists himself in and out of the sheets at Ushijima’s directions, his expression heated and needy in a way that makes Ushijima think really hard about the cold shower he’s going to take once this is over.

Tendou is beautiful and erotic and everything Ushijima has been craving in a model since he first got into photographing living beings. 

“You’re wrong, you know,” he murmurs, waiting for Tendou to slip in the final position of tonight’s photoshoot. He’s sprawled on his back with the sheet puddled between his thighs, soft white silk draped over his hip bone and just barely concealing him from Ushijima’s view. Neatly trimmed red pubic hair peeks out from above the line of the sheets, teasing to both Ushijima and his future audience.

“Yeah? About what?” Tendou sighs back, folding his arms above his head as Ushijima had requested. He looks so effortlessly beautiful and Ushijima hopes the attendees of his gallery feel the same way when they see his photos.

Ushijima carefully steps onto the mattress, feet planing on either side of Tendou’s knees as he stares down at him with his camera in hand.

“I don’t hate soulmates. I just don’t like the idea that fate gets to dictate who I’m allowed to fall in love with.”

He raises the camera and takes a picture just as the first lines of uncertainty start to crease Tendou’s face. 

“What do you mean by that? Don’t you want to find your soulmate?”

Ushijima shrugs, adjusting his footing so he can take another photo from a slightly sidelong angle. He reaches down to grip one of Tendou’s arms and carefully repositions it, sprawled across his chest with the other still curved over his head. 

“What if I’m in love with someone else? Is it really fair that I have to just give up those feelings because some unknown force is supposed to get to decide everything? Humans should be allowed to choose who they love,” he says firmly, and the look on Tendou’s face is sad again. Wistful, almost. 

“But what about your soulmate, and the soulmate of the person you have feelings for? Shouldn’t they get a say in all this?” Tendou shoots back, and there’s an edge to his voice that Ushijima doesn’t know how to decipher.

Ushijima kneels between Tendou’s spread legs, sinking down on the mattress until he’s barely hovering over his body, camera trained on his face at the end of his long, slim torso.

“I’m aware that it’s selfish of me to say so, but no. It isn’t their fault that they’re stuck with me anymore than it’s mine that I’m stuck with them.”

Tendou looks away then, the tension bleeding out of his body as Ushijima snaps photo after photo. 

“You’re stuck with them, huh,” he hums absently, unaware of the effect he has on the photographer when he slides his hand lower on chest, bandaged fingers grazing the line of wiry red hair beneath his belly button.

“What if you never find out who your soulmate is? Would that make you happy, Wakatoshi-kun?” And Ushijima considers the question.

It isn’t totally unheard of, never finding out who your soulmate is. The varying nature of soulmate marks can make it difficult sometimes to identify who your match is. Sometimes your soul marks are exact matches, or complementary based on your soulmate’s personality, talents, or interests. The rarest kind of soul mark is completely indistinct, a shape only able to be discerned when both soulmates combine their soul marks together. 

It’s also the most difficult kind to figure out. The highest percentage of individuals who never find their soulmate reside in that last category, and it’s likely where Ushijima also falls, based on the incoherent mess of watercolor randomly arranged across his chest. The potential to never find his soulmate is quite real, all things considered. 

So he answers honestly. What point would there be to lying to Tendou when the redhead already seems to know the answer anyways.

“Yes. I suppose it would.”

The conversation dies after that.

🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐

They do three more photoshoots over the following weeks, and while Tendou continues to be an absolute dream of a model, there’s a new, frustrating wall between him and his friend now that had never been there. Before the project, Tendou and Ushijima would always plan to eat at least one meal together every other day, even if it was just a cup of coffee shared at the table before Tendou went into the shop, or takeout eaten right out of the containers on the couch in front of a movie.

Now when Ushijima comes home, Tendou is already holed up in his bedroom for the night, either sleeping or reading and totally uninterested in joining Ushijima for dinner, and he’s gone every morning before Ushijima even wakes up. It’s painful, this distance that suddenly exists between them in their personal lives, even as the photoshoots bring them physically closer together than ever before. 

The one from last night had been no exception. The photo he had taken of Tendou with his chest arched up from the pile of pillows he’d been posing on, his chest flush, head tossed back and arms carelessly draped above him, is burned into Ushijima’s retinas for the rest of his life.

He’s already sent off a few of his favorites to his manager for the advertisements to start being made and the email he had gotten had sung Tendou’s praises as a model to the moon and back. She asks him if he intends to stick with this model for the next project and, honestly? Ushijima isn’t sure.

He wants to, that much is a given. But whether Tendou would be willing is another matter entirely.

First, Ushijima clearly needs to apologize for whatever it is he’s said or done that’s driven his best friend so far out of reach. He loves having Tendou as his model but he’ll give up his entire career on the spot if it means having their easy, comfortable closeness back. 

He misses his best friend. 

His plan is to grab lunch from the diner across from the florist shop that Tendou really likes. He’s always talking about their western style pancakes, and while Ushijima doesn’t usually eat a lot of sweets, he orders a plate for himself as well, hoping it’ll give him something to break the ice with.

Ushijima is reaching out to accept the to go containers from one of the employees when he sees it, and all the blood in his veins freezes in an instant. A delicate white daisy, exactly like the one Tendou has on his ankle.

Unthinking, he reaches out to grab the man’s wrist, and panics when he stares at Ushijima like he’s not sure whether to be polite or throw a punch. 

“You- You’re new?” There’s no way Tendou wouldn’t have noticed his soulmate working at the diner with how often he comes over for lunch or coffee during the week. 

The guy nods slowly, unsure.

“Yeah… Just started a few days ago. Why?” he replies cautiously, snatching his arm back when Ushijima suddenly realizes what he’s doing and releases him hurriedly.

He seems to be younger than him and Tendou, but with a handsome face and neatly cropped dark hair that curls attractively around his temples. And now Ushijima is faced with a deeply unsettling moral dilemma.

He’s in love with Tendou. He’d set foot in the restaurant today with the intentions of wooing his best friend back with a lunch of his favorite food. The past few days he’s been struggling to muster up the courage to finally ask Tendou out on a date, if only so he could finally be rejected and he would no longer have to agonize over the unknown. 

But now he’s staring straight at Tendou’s soulmate, who is staring back at him with increasing discomfort the longer Ushijima remains silent. It’s his responsibility, as Tendou’s best friend, to be truthful in this situation, right? 

Tendou would never forgive him if he ever found out that Ushijima had met his soulmate and didn’t say anything. 

If he tells the truth then maybe he’ll at least get to keep Tendou in his life as a friend. And finally finding his soulmate will make Tendou happier than any pancake breakfast Ushijima could ever bring him.

“Your soulmate,” he says quietly, and that catches the young man’s attention.

“Your soulmate works at the flower shop across the street. His name is Satori.”

The worker blinks and Ushijima notes the tag on his uniform shirt says his name is Takami. He tries and fails not to hate him instantly. 

“My soulmate? Really? Are you sure?” Takami asks, sounding breathless with excitement in a way Ushijima wishes he could be happy about. This is what Tendou deserves, after all. A soulmate who already loves him and is thrilled just by the prospect of getting to meet him. 

“Yeah. You should go to him when you can. He’s been waiting for you for a long time.” Every word is like a knife in his chest but he forces them out anyways, one after the other. 

The guy pats his hands on the countertop, looking suddenly nervous and overwhelmed. Ushijima offers him back the two to go containers, no longer hungry.

“You should go have lunch with him. The chocolate chip pancakes this place makes are his favorite,” he sighs, and Ushijima has to wonder why he’s being so helpful. If this is Tendou’s soulmate then it shouldn’t matter what he says or does.

Takami brightens and takes the boxes, and Ushijima notes regretfully his eyes have a similar reddish-brown color to Tendou’s. 

“Thanks, man. I’m definitely gonna do that!” 

Ushijima does not go to the florist shop after that. 

He doesn’t return to the apartment either. 

In fact, he should probably start looking into getting his own place if he doesn’t want front row seats to the love of his life falling for another man. 

The safety and silence of his studio greet him when Ushijima steps inside, and he’s glad that he had decided to leave his laptop here overnight because it means he can bury himself in his work and not think about what’s probably happening right now back at the florist’s. 

Easier said than done when his work involves staring at Tendou in various states of undress and vulnerability. 

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even hear the door to his studio slam open, too busy agonizing over a particular erotic photograph in which Tendou is lying on his back while Ushijima photographs him from the side. The knee closest to the camera is drawn upwards and his hands are buried between his thighs, pink dusted across his cheeks and shoulders as he regards the camera with a look of innocent surprise at getting “caught”. 

Hands grab at his shoulders and he’s suddenly spun around in his chair, coming face to face with a very different Tendou Satori to the one that’s on his screen. This Tendou looks absolutely furious, red faced and panting as if he’d sprinted the whole way here from his shop.

“Do you think I’m a joke? Is this _funny_ to you, Wakatoshi?” he snarls, and Ushijima wonders what on earth happened in the last hour to warrant such fury.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Satori,” he answers plainly, and it isn’t a lie. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

Tendou hisses and shoves at his chest, seeming only further enraged by Ushijima’s response. 

“Why the fuck would I want some scrawny ass college brat parading into my shop to profess his undying love for me? Why on earth would you think _that_ would ever be something I want,” Tendou demands, taking a step away from him and balling his hands into fists. 

Ushijima blinks, confused as to where the miscommunication is happening here.

“Because he’s your soulmate? He has the same mark as you.” He points dumbly to the spot on his own inner arm where the simple white daisy had been on the kid from the restaurant. 

“Because he’s my-”

Tendou puffs up as if he’s about to launch into an almighty lecture that Ushijima isn’t quite sure he deserves at this moment, then suddenly he deflates, exhaling all his fury in one soft, drawn out sigh.

“Get up, Wakatoshi.” 

Tendou peels his shirt over his head and Ushijima remains seated, staring wordlessly at the redhead while he undresses.

“I said get up!”

Ushijima shoots to his feet, standing awkwardly by his desk. Tendou steps out of his shoes and socks, then shoves his pants and underwear down to pool around his ankles. Only once he’s completely naked does he grab Ushijima’s camera, pushing it against his chest with fire in his eyes.

“We’re going to do one last photoshoot. Now take off your shirt and go stand in front of the stupid mirror.”

Ushijima wordlessly obeys, knowing that now definitely isn’t the time to argue, and sets the camera aside long enough to peel his t-shirt over his head and drop it on the ground with Tendou’s clothing.

Standing alone in front of the mirror is awkward. Much more awkward than it had been when he’d used it to photograph Tendou during the third session, with his lean body draped in rich purple silk. 

“Satori, I’m-”

Tendou interrupts him with a harsh, grinding laugh, coming up behind him and pressing uncomfortably close against his back. 

“If you apologize to me one more time, Wakatoshi-kun, I might actually lose it. Just be quiet and get the camera ready,” he growls in his ear and Ushijima is helpless to do anything more than obey him, raising the camera to his eye. 

Tendou’s arms wrap around his torso and Ushijima realizes with a jolt that he’s no longer wearing the ever present bandages wrapped around his fingers from knuckle to tip. There aren’t any scars, or bad cuts, or any of the number of things Ushijima had always wondered might be hiding beneath them. In high school it had been about the bruises from playing volleyball, and strengthening his hands against the vicious onslaught of the other team’s spikes.

But in adulthood, when volleyball ended and the bandages remained, Ushijima figured maybe Tendou just really liked how it looked. 

The longer it went on the more he just assumed there was something Tendou didn’t want him to see. 

He never realized how right he was until this exact moment as he watches Tendou’s pink and white watercolor fingers slip into the spaces between Ushijima’s soul mark, settling into place until the incoherent smattering of color suddenly forms a vaguely recognizable shape.

“A flower?” Ushijima asks distantly, lowering the camera so he can stare at their reflections with better clarity. Tendou rests his chin on Ushijima’s shoulder, his expression carefully neutral while he waits for Ushijima to process what he’s seeing.

“Alstroemeria. White, which symbolizes pure friendship between two people,” Tendou murmurs, thumbing carefully at the shape of the flower on Ushijima’s chest. “Pink, for romance and love.” 

Ushijima stares. And stares. 

“How long have you known?”

Tendou had walked in here with a purpose. Suddenly so many of their recent interactions make more sense, but Ushijima doesn’t understand why Tendou has hidden this from him.

“Ever since your accident,” Tendou admits, and it’s like a knife to Ushijima’s stomach. “My soul mark appeared around the same time, but you were already dealing with so much. Losing volleyball. All the pain of your physical therapy and the surgeries to put your knee back together. And then you were so busy with college and there just never seemed to be a chance to tell you.”

Tendou sighs and Ushijima puts his arm across Tendou’s forearms to prevent him from dropping his hands, still enraptured by the sight of their completed soul mark in the mirror.

“Why didn’t you tell me later? It’s been years, Satori. There must have been plenty of opportunities.” 

Tendou hums faintly, closing his eyes.

“Because you hated your soulmate. You always talked about how you wanted nothing to do with any of it. That it was all just fairytale nonsense. You told me point blank only a week ago that you would be happy if you never found your soulmate, so. What was I supposed to do with that?”

Ushijima pauses and it dawns on him that this is really happening. 

Tendou Satori is his soulmate. 

“I thought the daisy on your ankle was your soul mark and I hated it because I wanted you to be mine. I wanted you to be _my_ soul mate, but the daisy…” Ushijima trails off, suddenly realizing with horribly clarity that he’s been angry for years about what apparently must be just-.

“It’s just a tattoo, Wakatoshi. I walked into a tattoo shop on a whim one day after we graduated and picked it out of the artist’s portfolio. That’s why the guy from the cafe had the same tattoo, because it is literally the exact same tattoo,” Tendou explains, and the situation would almost be funny if it weren’t also so depressing. 

“So we’ve wasted all these years on a pile of misunderstandings,” Ushijima murmurs, tracing his thumb across the back of Tendou’s colorful middle finger. The pink is so dark in places it almost looks purple, reminiscent of their old uniform color and the purple silks Ushijima has been using for his photoshoots. 

Tendou’s arms tighten around him by a fraction, bare skin warm and sticky against Ushijima’s.

“We have, but… We don’t have to waste any more,” he responds, voice cautious and uncertain. As if he expects Ushijima might reject him, and that just won’t do. 

Ushijima twists around in the circle of Tendou’s arms and catches his surprised face in a single broad palm, the other still clutching onto his camera. Tendou’s face is flush red and Ushijima desperately wants to capture the ruined, vulnerable expression he’s wearing. 

“One last photoshoot,” he offers, echoing Tendou’s words from earlier. 

Tendou sinks back into the mattress without a word when Ushijima guides him over to it, still as beautiful as the first time Ushijima had photographed him spread out across the clean white silk. This time though, Ushijima doesn’t have to hold himself back from touching.

“Show me your hands, Satori,” he whispers softly, eyes heated when he settles down to straddle Tendou’s thighs, knees brushing against him, and raises the camera.

Tendou stares back with equal fire and slowly reaches up towards the lens with both hands, as if he’s reaching out for his lover. 

Click.

Another photo, Tendou with one hand curled against his mouth while the other spreads out across his chest, doing a poor job of hiding the flush that’s creeping across his pale skin. 

Click. 

“Wakatoshi,” Tendou sighs, and the faint quiver in his voice is what gets Ushijima to finally put the camera aside. He’s also reached his limit with just looking through his camera lens. 

It’s easy to slip between Tendou’s thighs and rock against him. He fits so naturally there it’s as if they were made to go together, like two matching pieces of a puzzle destined for one another. 

And when Ushijima finally captures Tendou in a long overdue kiss he thinks that maybe there’s some value to all this soulmate business after all.

🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐

“Ushijima-san, you really have outdone yourself this time. I think the photography journals will all be talking about it for the next decade, if not longer,” Ushijima’s manager says breathlessly, staring up at the massive photograph being installed on the wall of the gallery where his second exhibition is being held.

It had been difficult for Ushijima to select which photos made the cut for this show because, quite plainly, all of them had been beautiful. Several of the runner ups had gone into the photobook as an added bonus for anyone who purchased it, and Ushijima is excited to show it to Tendou once the final proofs come back from the printer. 

“This piece isn’t for sale. Make sure the gallery is aware of that,” Ushijima murmurs, eyes raking over the crown jewel of his entire show. “It’s going in my studio once the show is over.”

To the untrained eye, this photograph might seem like an odd one to select for the centerpiece of the exhibit. Unlike the rest, which feature Tendou alone in his various poses and states of undress, Tendou appears with another man in the picture. 

It’s probably difficult to tell that it’s Ushijima. Only half his face is visible in the photo, turned to the side to look at Tendou and shot from the chest up with a camera set on a tripod in Ushijima’s studio. Tendou is pressed up against his back, his face nestled so close to Ushijima’s that his forehead is almost brushing his lips. The expression on his face is soft with happiness, a faint pink flush rising in his cheeks. 

The face of a man who has chased love and lust through this entire exhibition, only to finally be united with his soulmate at long last. 

Ushijima is wearing a deep purple shirt that matches the robe Tendou had worn in their very first photoshoot, but the buttons are undone to reveal the brilliant watercolor of his soulmark against his tan chest. Tendou’s arms are curled around his body and his fingers are filling in the gaps of the soulmark, making it whole. 

Tendou is impossibly beautiful, just like he always is, and Ushijima knows he absolutely cannot part with this photo. The idea of such an important piece hanging in some rich art collector’s second dining hall is detestable. 

This moment in time belongs to him and Tendou, and Ushijima plans to keep it that way.

“I’ll make a note of it,” she replies, rapidly typing something out on her smartphone before she pauses, glance back up at him.

“How do you spell the exhibition title again?”

Ushijima smiles faintly without bothering to look at her, his gaze still rooted to the curve of Tendou’s smile. He’s pretty sure she won’t hold it against him.

“Alstroemeria. A-l-s-t-r-o-e-m-e-r-i-a,” he clarifies, and his heart skips a beat when a familiar singsong voice rings out across the empty space of the gallery hall. 

“Wakatoshi-kun!” Tendou crows, beaming as he carefully dances around the workers currently constructing Ushijima’s exhibition. In his hands are two takeout boxes and Ushijima thinks he recognizes the smell of pancakes once his boyfriend gets closer. Tendou hasn’t worn the bandages a single moment since that day in Ushijima’s studio and the watercolor on his fingers is proudly displayed to the world.

It’s detrimental to Ushijima’s health, if only because he cannot stop staring. 

“Satori. I thought you had to work today,” Ushijima asks, quietly pleased when Tendou shifts the boxes to one side and curls his now unoccupied arm around Ushijima’s waist. Every expression of affection from Tendou is something Ushijima never thought he’d get to have, and he’s grateful for every single one.

“I did, but you’ve been so busy with getting ready for the show that we’ve hardly seen each other in days, so I thought I’d close up early and bring over some dinner. I bet you probably haven’t eaten yet today even though you promised me you would,” Tendou says sternly, and Ushijima loves him so much in that moment that he very much wishes to kiss him.

So he does, just because he can. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi is in love with Tendou Satori and Tendou Satori is in love with his soulmate, who very much _is_ Ushijima, now and for always.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter over at [ushitendous!](https://twitter.com/ushitendous)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story ♡✧( ु•⌄• )`
> 
> You can find beautiful artwork from this story [here](https://twitter.com/queenkeiji/status/1360033002063994881?s=20) and [here](https://twitter.com/queenkeiji/status/1360017308597456897?s=20), drawn by the amazing and wonderful [Ysa!](https://twitter.com/queenkeiji)


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